


A Tale of Fire and Ice

by E_Gotta_Blast



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst, Big bicep energy, Chieftain Claire, Dual axes, F/F, Furs and warpaint, Gay, Gay panic but they try to keep it under control because they are both hardened warriors, Gore, Viking AU, Violence, Warrior Jill, angsty lesbians, chieftain gay panic, jackednotstacked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:33:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25363909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Gotta_Blast/pseuds/E_Gotta_Blast
Summary: Chieftain Claire and her clan of Vikings lead a string of attacks on Paris and Wessex. As time goes on, Claire grows closer to one of her most ferocious warriors, Jill Valentine.
Relationships: Claire Redfield/Jill Valentine
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	A Tale of Fire and Ice

**Author's Note:**

> For my friends who have helped me form this idea...you know who you are ;)

It was not the first time, the second, nor would it be the last. Claire was certain by the fourth time that an eternal wheel had been set forth between them, constantly pushing them in the same cycle. She supposed it was due to the very blunt fact that Jill, was in fact, her head warrior. Her loyal soldier. Her most trusted companion. 

Maybe she should have seen it coming after the first battle - that is, the first battle Jill took part in. 

A few dozen warriors docked in the capital on a particular warm evening. It wasn't spring weather by all means, but the temperature had risen just enough where you could feel your face again. 

Looming and menacing with long purposeful strides, the vikings made their way through the village and towards the block of flickering yellow standing tall in the night. They were covered in grime, drenched with the sweat and blood of their enemies with a hint of their shield siblings. 

Chieftain Claire was seated in her usual high chair, her falcon Vanya perched at its highest point who was silently studying the crowd before her. 

Farmers, women with child, and kids who were too young to hold a sword were joined by the champions of war. Men and women poured into the great hall, smiling and hollering at their family. 

A dark haired viking caught Claire's attention. The viking who was in fact approaching the redhead with an intensity as if there were no one else in the room. Wordlessly, she lowered herself to the floor, kneeling in front of Claire as if she were answering to a King. Claire's eyes wondered at the same time, taking in the brown and black fur draped across the woman's broad shoulders...how the woman's neck disappeared under the thickness of her cloak and how prominent that beauty mark was at the tip of the woman's hairline. 

Jill. It was Jill, she then realized. It was the mysterious warrior who traveled across the sea of Jörmungandr. The warrior who supposedly out tricked Loki himself. 

Tales such as these came with skeptics and believers alike, but Claire supposed anything was possible. 

But now, here, kneeling in front of Claire, she knew there was something different about the woman. She had lived and loved, fought and cried. She could sense it in her. And it was strange what Jill was doing. She was definitely not missing any sideways glances, and admittedly, Claire admired the amount of respect she had just shown to her. 

Maybe Claire had been letting her warriors off too easy. 

Jill's head rose, black strands falling around her fur, and smirked ever so slightly. Claire found herself smiling and gave the warrior one last glance before calling out. 

"The seine river has fallen under our control." 

The uproar from the surrounding warriors and shield-maidens alike erupted within the walls of the grand room. Jill rose from her place at the bottom of the steps and met that energy, thrusting one of two of her axes into the air, her cut jawline falling open in joined yells. Orbs of ice fell upon the Chieftain once again, Jill's face sculpted by black paint, like thick, angry, abrupt tears pooling around her eyes and cascading down the sides of her profile.

She was fierce, and Claire was slightly upset that Jill hadn't come into her path sooner. 

Day after day, battle after battle, the two women unknowingly gravitated to each other. 

On one afternoon, Claire viewed the training sessions taking place in the heart of their village. She hadn't intentionally come at the same time Jill just so happened to be sparring, but Claire was more than glad to stay and watch. 

Today, Jill and Claire's own brother, Chris, were going head to head. Apparently the two of them were instant friends upon meeting. At first she wondered how a goofy, loud mass of a person could click with such a mysterious, calculating woman. 

"-dammit, Jill." 

Chris heaved, lying flat on his back defeatedly with the curve of Jill's axe pressed into his neck. 

Jill only smirked at her victory, "Not my fault your defense is shit." 

Claire chuckled to herself and silently watched as Jill helped Chris to his feet. Claire half expected Jill to attack again but was surprised to see the woman smack her brother's shoulder lightly and shake her head with a grin at something he said. 

The more Claire observed, the more she saw of inside jokes, secret handshakes, and the constant flow of jokes back and forth. It was a relationship more commonly seen among two male best friends. The attitude fit Jill nicely though, and from all the times she caught Jill winking at her from the training ground, she ignored the growing heat in her face. 

Soon came the time for the attack on Paris. Amongst most people, the smart ones anyhow, already knew the battle was not going to be easy. Turns out, it was going to be a hell of a lot harder than any could have ever imagined. 

Many of her warriors lost their lives trying to break through the gate of the city, others had their head smashed by the rocks being flung from the wall where some were covered in boiling tar. It wasn’t easy to see such formidable warriors killed in such a way - especially with the addition of their brain matter splattered on her armor. 

In the days of the siege, it wasn’t too long before Claire began to hear tell of a ghost in the ranks, forged by the deepest depths of the abyss, one who they called Hel. It was a very...strong nickname, to say the least. Claire, more than anything, was shocked to hear that her people would dare even speak the goddess of death’s name in such a context. 

On that last day, the Chieftain found herself scaling the walls of the city beside her fellow shield brothers and sisters. They had managed to kill just enough of the soldiers on the wall to gain a small window of infiltration. 

Claire released a strangled sigh, her hands trembled and clutched onto the top of the stone wall. Short, ragged breaths escaped those chapped lips kissed by unruly strands of fire in the wind. A short yell erupted beside her and she swung her shield directly in front of her face, blocking the full scale thrust of a sword. She gripped the handle of the axe in her right hand, grimacing at the reminder of the biting pain inflicted by the impact of the stone at the bottom of the wall. Nevertheless, with one determined arc from above, the man’s neck split open like the fruit she would pick near the top of the fjord in the spring. 

Something solid, more like a melon, smacked dead center into the Chieftain’s spine. The redhead instinctively rose her shield and whirled around, her heart hammering as loud as the gjallarhorn Bjon sounded at the beginning of their advance. A woman stood above a body, dual axes dripping with thick liquid, as her chest heaved under the thickness of the tunic and furs. Fair skin suffered from splattered blood and bore those same black markings of paint along her cheekbones. Around her, lay bodies of the deceased, with missing limbs and mangled corpses...Claire could hardly tell they were people at one point. Directly in front of the dark haired woman lied a body fully severed of its head - which now was staring up at Claire only an inch from her boot. 

Claire swallowed and met those arctic eyes under the grime and blood. A fluttering sensation similar to a fire, rose from the bottom of her stomach, to her chest, and out through her cheeks. 

It seemed she was now in the presence of Hel, and it thrilled her.

Once they settled down back at home with a belly full of ale, Claire made her way through the night, watching as her people celebrated around the fire. People laughed and carried horns of ale with them, hand in hand with a lover only to drag them into their quarters and quickly slam the door behind them. 

Before long, the redhead's hand was on the door. She should turn back - she knew that much. And yet, she pressed on the wood, stepping in around the door before closing it. 

Jill was found on her bed, surrounded by furs and dimly lit sconces. The warrior lifted her head and studied the Chieftain hovering by the door. Her expression was unreadable - and Claire dared to say that the woman even intimidated her. 

Both of her axes were propped against the frame of her bed, ridden of the blood and chunks of brains caked on the blade. Claire's memory flew back to that moment on Paris' walls, how Jill stood over their bodies, and felt that same, strange kind of shiver rack through her spine. 

Claire realized she had been standing for awhile now, too long in fact that now she was making it awkward. Maybe she could say something to make it all better, or maybe even crack one of her horrid jokes in a lame attempt to make the broody woman in front of her smile - but it seems Jill had went back to fidgeting with a bandage around her forearm awhile ago, completing dismissing Claire's presence. 

She suddenly felt like an intruder. 

Wordlessly, Claire turned and exited back through the door. 

Days passed, and Claire kept clear of the mysterious warrior. She had no business in Jill’s chambers anyhow. More than anything, she had made a fool of herself. She was the Chieftain. She had other matters to attend to that didn’t include a broody, clean cut, mass of muscle that just so happened to be very attractive. 

And maybe it was best for the village. Among the incoming winter of frost and the growing war in the south, they didn’t need a scab on their society such as two women harboring a foreign type of love. 

Even so, Claire just could not stop thinking about Jill. She wanted to see her. She needed to see her. 

So there she was, standing by the door like she had weeks ago. Jill hadn’t even seemed surprised by the redhead’s return. She only trailed those arctic eyes, slow and steady, over the Chieftain’s own body before bringing her attention back to the braids fitting snug against her scalp on the right side. 

“I just-” Claire cleared the clay in her throat, “I just wanted to tell you that we received word from the kingdom of Wessex. They’re not surrendering.” Claire bites her lip and almost outwardly curses but she manages to stop herself. It was a shitty excuse of appearance and even shittier coming from the leader of their clan. 

A small grunt comes from the opposite side of the room and Claire almost mistakes it as the wood shifting, then it’s followed by a low chuckle. “Don’t they know who we are?”

Claire can only gape like the dumb bastard she is and stare like a fish out of water. She thinks that’s the first time she has ever heard Jill’s voice so close. It’s low and spoken as if her vocal chords are wading through water. Then, long fingers that were expertly unraveling the braids come to a stand still and run through the free, kinked hair. Claire doesn’t think she’s ever been so entranced by a voice...or the simple movements of fingers. 

“I want you to lead the front.” Claire holds her breath while her eyes watch the way Jill’s lips curl towards the ceiling when she chuckles. There is a brief moment of eye contact before Jill reaches for the clasps of her fur cloak. “Anything for you, Claire.” 

Claire blinks and quickly replays those words. They were so sure coming from a hardened warrior and yet there had been some type of underlying intention that had Claire speechless for maybe the first time in her whole life. She doesn’t even process the fact that Jill had just addressed her by her personal name. 

She begins to turn to leave until the floorboards squeak in multitudes behind her. “Wait-” 

Claire stops and faces the taller woman. She’s staring holes into the wood under her shoes and Claire can’t figure out for the life of her why she just wants to engulf the woman into a hug. 

“I’m sorry if I seemed...dismissive the other day.” Jill started. She lifted her gaze from the floor and those blue eyes found their way to Claire’s. The redhead instantly felt her heart jolt under the brunette’s gaze and it was almost like liquid, hot fire had been poured over her body. 

The Chieftain only smiled in response and did her best not to stumble over her own feet on her way out the door. 

Claire didn’t dare say that things had begun to change after their very small talk in Jill’s quarters. However, on the occasion they passed each other in the village, she would catch a mere second of a confident grin and two intense blue eyes before losing them in the crowd. 

14 days later, on the evening after the scope out of Wessex’s defenses, Claire yet again found herself in Jill’s room. It had been rough, from what she had heard from others. Her few selected warriors barley made it out with their life- but thankfully the guards they had stumbled upon were taken care of. Now it was only a matter of time before they led the attack on the kingdom. 

"You're here." Jill stated smoothly. Claire only swept her gaze over the warriors body long enough to notice the gash on her bicep. She picked up the rag hanging limply on the side of the wash basin and dipped it into the cool liquid. The entire time, she could feel eyes on her, and the intensity almost sets her aflame. 

Claire eventually sits on the bed full of furs and notices she’s only an inch or two from where Jill is seated. The warrior seems shocked by the sight of the washcloth in the redhead’s hand but nevertheless, she remains silent as always. 

Claire accepts this as her signal and pushes out her hand to the surface of Jill’s bicep. Only now, fully up close, she realizes just how fit the viking is. Every piece of muscle seems outlined perfectly all the way up her arm. And now, she can even see the defined lines building up across the woman’s exposed stomach, save for the wraps of cloth snug against her breasts. Over by the door, it didn’t take her 3 seconds to realize Jill was shirtless, and she was trying her damned best not to ogle like a teenage boy but now within just a few inches it was like her body was fighting against the inclination to stop her staring. 

A low chuckle sounded in front of her and Claire quickly lifted her eyes in a failed attempt to hide her previous actions. She was met with an amused smirk and Claire could only imagine how red her face was at the moment. 

The Chieftain cleared her throat and immediately pressed the cloth against the brunette’s skin. There hadn’t even been a flinch when she neared the wound and Claire found herself admiring how strong the woman in front of her was. 

“This is going to need stitches…” Claire watched the fresh blood begin to pour out of the wound and pressed a fresh cloth against it to stop the bleeding. “Why didn’t you go to Rebecca?”

Jill pursed her lips with a deflated sigh, “I guess I just wanted to be alone.” 

The redhead soaks in those words and instantly feels like she doesn’t belong. “So do you...do you want me to leave?” The words come out more bitter than she anticipated but there was no use in trying to backtrack now. 

The warrior narrowed her eyes and her jaw tightened as she tilted her head in the opposite direction. Claire watched anxiously. The silence that had settled between them grew thick, somehow suffocating. 

The redhead could sense some sort of deep turmoil from Jill, almost like every battle she had ever fought was within herself. Claire understood, partially, why Jill felt this way. She couldn't say she understood, for she simply had never encountered one of the gods, especially in reality. 

Freyja occasionally visited Claire in her dreams, followed with flashes of the future, what should be done to make things happen, and what should be done to stop them. 

However, Claire imagined Jill's encounter with Loki had been far from pleasant. 

Jill seemed to be pretty blocked off from everyone. She kept her focus on training, killing the enemy, and conditioning her body to be ready for any circumstance - with the exception of smart ass remarks to the men in the tavern and her hang outs with Chris. And on one of the evenings where her and Chris were talking down by the beach, Jill revealed the details about her encounter with the trickster to him. 

Chris had said that she talked in strings and choppy paragraphs, almost like she couldn't make sense of it herself. Then there was the confrontation, the muddled disillusion of victory before she was pulled through every fiber in Helheim only to be spat back out into the middle of the ocean. She said she couldn't explain how it felt to see all of the tortured souls in Hel, even if they were the dishonorable ones - but Loki made sure to point out Jill was no different, even if she was fighting in Odin's name. 

Jill then had wrapped her arms around her torso with a careful glance towards the sky in the midst of talking, as if she were terrified Loki would come barreling down at her. 

She even refused to talk about the event that happened after she managed to outsmart the god - but from what Chris could understand, he had taken something from her - something that made her shake when Chris pried. 

And she had never brought the topic up ever again. Neither did Chris. 

Claire shifted on the bed of furs, growing extremely uncomfortable inside of the unbearable silence - a slender hand then landed on the inside of Claire’s knee, warm and sure. The redhead nearly jumped at the suddenness. 

“No…” Jill slowly ripped her gaze away from Claire’s leg and locked eyes. The heat in the room was tearing a hole through her. “Stay.”

The village began to notice the improvement in Claire’s mood - not Jill, she was still the mysterious badass she always was. Only Claire knew she really was the biggest softie inside. They hadn’t spent another night together and alone since Jill had told her to stay for the night. Nothing happened, not like in other cabins, but there was something in the way the hardened warrior had held her through the biting cold of the night that had Claire reeling. 

"Return home to me." Claire had whispered, gazing at the flicker of the flame in a sconce on the opposite wall. 

She felt the small exhale of hair tickle the skin on the back of her neck, "Of course." 

It was now the dawn of the attack on Wessex. The Chieftain had stayed home with the remainder of her village in any case a neighboring enemy attempted an attack. Claire trusted Jill, whom she had made her right hand, to lead the front lines of the battle. 

It was nearly a week and a half later before Claire had heard any word on the aftermath of the battle. She was certain Jill and the other warriors of the clan could make a victory out of the night, especially with their admired resolve. 

There hadn’t been many details of what had happened. Their clan had won of course, but they had lost many brave warriors. There were no names, only the deep pit of dread and just hoping it was no one you cared for. 

Claire just wanted to see Jill’s face again. 

A few evenings into the future, Claire watched the mass of their clan’s ships entering the dock of their village nestled between the expanse of the fjord. As Chieftain, she should have waited and made sure every warrior, living or dead, was accounted for. However, also as Chieftain, she had the right to do whatever the fuck she wanted. Therefore, the redhead nearly sprinted to the healers lodge. 

Locks had been placed within her neck, worming their way through her shoulders and arms. It seemed she could barely breathe - and the door ahead of her was moving more than it should. 

_ Jill.  _

Claire grabbed the set of arms in front of her, “Where is Jill?” 

Rebecca eyed the Chieftain, deeply caring eyes flowing with unease. “Rebecca w-” 

“Bed seven.” She hurried out. Claire released the grip on her forearms that had been unpurposefully bruising the younger woman. 

Surrounding Claire were no more than a dozen warriors splattered in blood and still clutching their weapon in a white knuckled grip. She faintly felt ill at the fact their pain had been inflicted by those Wessex fuckers. And it was horrible, she should feel guilty, but all she really cared about in the moment were those blue eyes. 

Alas, she had finally reached her destination and nearly fell on her ass as she stumbled towards the bed. Shaky hands flew to a pale jawline. “You’re okay.” 

Jill parted her chapped lips that then closed and formed into a slight upturned grin. “Of course I am.” She stated with a chuckle. 

The redhead instantly fell silent and before she even processed what was happening, the words were already flying out of her mouth. “N-Fuck you! I thought you were seriously hurt or-or dead! Don’t you realize how much you mean to me you stubborn asshole?” 

Jill’s eyebrow twitched toward the floor as she gaped at the woman hovering only inches above her. Claire only now realized her chest was heaving, she was out of breath, maybe the panic had worn her out. Maybe it had been those eyes of ice. 

Within a flash of black war paint and hair, hot breath fanned against the fair skin of the redhead before lips pressed into the other pair, firm and passionate. Wordless in all regards, the redhead presses onward and she can hear the small sigh the other woman emits. Claire’s heart clung to the top of her throat. Her hands trembled as they snaked around a slender neck and Jill only deepened the mold of their lips. A spark blew in her bain and she realized...she was fucking kissing Jill. Jill had kissed her. Holy shit-

“-Ah, ow.” Claire watched the brunette’s hand cover her injured abdomen and realized she had managed to get one leg up on the bed as half of her body hovered over the warrior. 

_ Damn Claire, make absolutely no attempt to hide your eagerness.  _

Jill smiled warmly and placed a steady hand on the side of Claire’s profile, “I’m still suffering a knife injury, maybe wait until I heal a little better before jumping my bones.”

Claire released a throaty laugh and met those eyes of ice once more. Those same sharp, violent lines of black paint framed her defined features and even though many people would scream and run in the other direction at the sight of this woman, Claire wanted to embrace her. Jill was a strong warrior and an even stronger woman, and this formidable viking was hers - and she had found a home in those eyes of ice that complimented her fire. 


End file.
